


The Audacious

by Irenee_LeBeau



Category: Band Wild Youth, One Direction, Wild Youth - Fandom, niall horan - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Conor O’Donohoe - Freeform, Conor is from Wild Youth!!, Crack Fic, Established Relationship, I swear, I’m sorry, Kinda, M/M, Niall Horan - Freeform, OCD, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Stupid Boys, Teasing, a little bit, conor is a menace, i'm not crazy, it’s just a joke, me entertaining me, niall tops, no offence - Freeform, ocd kink, sorry mom and dad, the Irish band, they’re friends with Niall for real!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irenee_LeBeau/pseuds/Irenee_LeBeau
Summary: A day in Niall and Conor’s life that just didn’t go so well... or did it?





	The Audacious

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so so sorry for writing it :) but I had much fun doing it :) it’s just a joke and I’m not trying to mock people with OCD or Niall and Conor. So, if you may be offended by any of the mentioned above, don’t read it.
> 
> Also, the disclaimer and bla-bla-bla, I don’t own anything, all of it is just my imagination.

Morning caught Niall off guard, lying spread on his king-sized bed in the middle of his freshly renovated bedroom that was the true heart of his recently bought LA house. He didn't remember exactly what were his dreams about, only that it was warm, and soft, and gentle, and calm. But in the reality it wasn't that at all, the reality was blindingly bright, hell of a hot, disturbingly loud and not calm at all. Well, he could blame the sun for the brightness and hotness, Conor's snoring beside him for the loudness and their upcoming first party for the unsettling feeling in his chest. He couldn't help but started to slightly panic when he remembered the last issue. ‘Yeah, just some barbecue party, that is all, Horan, you can handle it’. That's just the way he was, a perfectionist, who could never let any mistakes to be made.

Niall stretched his limbs under the covers, then elbowing Conor into consciousness.

“Time to get up, sleeping beauty”, he said in a raspy morning voice, “the grocery isn't going to buy itself”, he planted a soft kiss on his partner’s lips.

Conor mumbled something unintelligible and made an attempt to turn on the other side.

At that, Niall had to yank his blanket, leaving Conor lying on his stomach dressed just like Adam in the Eden Garden. “You’re harassing me”, Conor whined and pouted his lips, hugging his pillow closer. ‘An actual puppy, that one’, mused Niall to himself. But there was no time for the sentiments, they had the whole load of shit to do.

“Go on, take a shower. I’m going to check my twitter really fast and then i’ll join you”, he said, gesturing towards their adjacent en suite. “Maybe i’ll even decide to throw some shit on the fan and congratulate our daddy Direction”, Niall grinned devilishly. Conor just smiled at his remark and spent another ten minutes lying in the bed without as much as a single move, pretending he was dead. It was a nice try, really, not believable, but still cute.

Finally, he decided to extract himself from the bed and to try to make it to the shower, and that was how this fuckery started, though, it took Niall some time to connect the dots. Having slipped from the edge of the bed, Conor cracked his back with the following pleased sigh, and headed to the bathroom, only stopping by the closet to pick a towel. He took one from the shelf where the towels for face and hands were stored and, apparently, hadn’t noticed that something was off. Niall eyed him vigorously, hoping he would fix it. But he didn’t. The thing is, he WASN’T going to wash only his face and hands, he was going to take a shower. Towels for the whole body were stored on the shelf to the left from there.

Niall cleared his throat loudly, but Conor barely paid any attention to that. “On the left,” Niall almost yelled at him, his eyebrows were knitted together. Conor gave him an amused look and silently grabbed the towel.

“You're weird”, he only muttered under his breath before disappearing inside the en suite. Niall scowled towards the direction he'd gone, then got up from the bed himself and went to join him in the shower, trying to shake off his irrational irritation.

***

After the shower they went grocery shopping and then started getting ready to meet their guests for the barbeque. Niall insisted on staying outside as the weather was perfect and their backyard was just finished, with a pond and a lot of different plants and flowers and even the stone garden. Niall was extremely delighted with it, to say the least. So, he decided to light the barbecue and delegated setting the drinks, plates, glasses and cutlery to Conor. 

Conor hummed to himself while arranging the stuff on the table and rearranging what had been there before, like the napkins holder and the flowers in the vase and the ashtray. ‘Who the fuck install a fucking vase on the table when they are going to hang out with friends with beer and barbecue wings?’ thought Conor and unashamedly moved the vase from where it was placed to the far corner of the table and continued serving, completely oblivious to Niall’s stare that could set the whole table altogether with the plates, god-damn flowers and Conor himself, on fire. 

“Put the vase where it belongs,” Niall demanded and then tried to hide his annoyance behind the fakest smile known to the humanity.

Conor just blinked dumbly at him, trying to process what was going on, then his eyes lit up with something alike to recognition and he turned away, fast enough for Niall not to notice the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and put the vase where it stayed before, muttering silent “Okay, okay”.

Finally, their guests started to gather in the backyard, talking and laughing with each other and the hosts, and that eased the previous tension between Niall and Conor a bit, though Niall was registering every Conor's move, how he placed the plates, where he put the beer glasses, but tried to avoid meeting his gaze, pretending he was busy with the barbecue. 

“You're nervous today, is everything okay?”, Conor asked him once they were alone, he mastered the most innocent voice he could and sounded really interested in the answer. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine”, Niall visibly flinched, stepping from one foot to another and automatically reached out to fix the neckline and collar on Conor's shirt. Then, he let his hands wander lower down the lapels of the shirt, straightening it and checking the buttons and the sleeves that were rolled up to the elbows. 

Conor rolled on the ball of his feet with anticipation. It's going to be so much fun to watch.

***

“And so I aimed as good as possible and hit,” Niall stood in front of the barbeque waving his cooking device like a club and telling his golf stories. Of course, once Niall started to coo about playing golf, nothing could stop him. That’s when Conor decided to step up and have some of Niall’s attention.

“Here, have some beer, babe, i’ll take care of the food,” said Conor eagerly and got up from where he was sitting. He handed Niall his beer and took his cooking kit from him, then placing it carefully on the table. “Let me refill your glasses,” he announced and gathered everyone’s drinks to pour there some more beer. He lined them on the table and started pouring beer, making eye contact with Niall. He stopped filling the first glass only about two inches under the edge and moved to another one. He refilled the second glass and stopped pouring beer only a millimeter under the rim, so it threatened to go beyond the edges. Niall scolded at the glasses and then at Conor, but Conor didn't glanced back. Instead, he moved on to refilling the third glass, this time he stopped pouring the sparkling liquid even earlier than with the first glass. Niall had to press his lips together to keep himself from any kind of rude comments he could come up with at the moment. He ruefully looked at the glasses and sighed, they didn't even look like a staircase, they looked like a fucking roller coaster. The sight was very unnerving. 

Fuck it, thought Niall to himself, who needs beer glasses when they have a shitload of bottled Guinness in the basement? He was going to bring it as soon as this excuse of a housewife finished the defilement of their glasses, their beer and Niall’s mind.

The next half an hour went by pretty calm, they talked and laughed and had a little banter but nothing major and nothing that could have made Niall go crazy and add a little spice to their evening. So, naturally, Conor decided to stir the shit once again, thinking that, hopefully, Niall had forgotten his little show from the earlier and he would be able to take him by surprise. He stood up from his seat near the barbecue and announced:

“I'm going to the kitchen to get some more veggies to roast. Does anyone need something?”. After a loud chorus of no, thank you’s he gave Niall a small innocent smile and turned on his heels to head towards their kitchen.

When he emerged from the house only about five minutes later, sporting a playful grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes, he was also holding a big container with vegetables and several knives. ‘If Niall only knew what I’m about to do’, mused Conor as he approached their table and put the stuff he was carrying onto it. He made quick eye-contact with Niall and got to work.

For the next several minutes Niall only could silently watch the snow unfolding in front of him. At first, Conor took their chef knife and set on chopping the onion, for a spare second Niall even felt proud of his lover and, of course, of himself as Conor sliced the piece in two without peeling it, in a way that was right, the way that prevented your eyes from tearing up and your hands from being attacked by acid juice, the way Niall taught him. But then, after he had finished chopping the onions, the motherfucker just nonchalantly put the knife aside, dig both hands in a freshly cut onion and squeezed. It seemed that the drops of juice flew their way back to Niall and even, maybe, all the way to Bahamas, who knows. Niall thought it might have hit him in the eye, but he didn’t even care. He had to grit his teeth with annoying squeak only he could hear and suddenly felt nauseous. Also, his eyes might or might not be a little teary, and he didn't even know if it was because of onion or because of his frustration, but no one had to know. The little bastard caught him by surprise, but he hoped he was safe for now.

On the other hand, their friends were completely oblivious that something was wrong, they kept talking and laughing while Niall and Conor had mental dialogue that could sound like:

“What the fuck are doing?”  
“Cutting your onions, psyc”  
“Don’t fuck with me, the fuck was that?”  
“Hop off my dick or i’m not fucking with you for real.”

Or, at least, Niall thought that i could have sounded like that.

Next, Conor - with his bloody toxic-juice-covered hands - took the tomatoes and another knife, it was only then when Niall registered that he actually brought several of them. He briefly wondered why when his eyes caught what knife Conor was holding - it was their bluntest knife, the one that hadn’t been sharpen in ages and actually was stored in the bottom drawer with kitchen stuff that wasn’t meant to be used, like, ever. So, let him get this clear, Conor went to their fucking kitchen, looked through their cutlery, hadn’t found the knife blunt enough, so he rummaged through the other drawers with abandoned kitchen stuff to fish out this. Unbelieveable, but what for?

Conor’s next step pretty much answered Niall’s question. He put one tomato on the counter and attempted to cut it in half, and poor little vegetable remained strong and resisted against that ugly knife invasion bravely, but was defeated in the end and fell into two unflattering, mushy halves. Niall’s throat tightened and he swallowed back a groan of frustration. Why was it happening with him? What did he do to deserve that?

But the universe didn’t hear him, as Conor resumed the defilement of the poor vegetable. He, then, cut the halves into halves, too, and into halves again and did the same with the rest of their nice little perfectly-shaped tomatoes until they looked like they had been eaten and then thrown up onto the table. 

Conor proudly placed the vegetables on the grill and turned to join the conversation between their friends, acting like everything was just fine. Niall was fidgety and didn't know where to put his hands as the only thing he could think about was to grab Conor by the front of his shirt and drag him inside the house where he could talk some sense into him. But that would be rude to the other people they invited so his only choice was to sit here, trying to look and sound nonchalant and patiently wait for the evening to be over with silent plead towards Conor “please, get under control, please, her under control”. Which he already knew wasn't going to be heard.

He didn't expect the next hit so soon from the last one, yet, Conor always knew how to surprise him. He decided he wasn’t going to take it anymore and got up to cool off for a bit and bring new drinks.

“Where are ya going?” he heard Conor asking from behind of him. Niall stopped dead in his tracks at that and let the other lad catch up until he was standing right beside him.

“Gonna bring some drinks if you're quite finished making a fool of yourself?” that was more like a desperate question than a sassy remark.

Conor pursed his lips in a poor attempt to disguise his smile and nodded. Niall stepped forward and left him by himself, hoping he would leave his intentions to mess with him and embarrass himself even further.

Having entered the house, Niall stomped directly towards the bathroom. He nearly gasped out loud when he took in his appearance in the mirror - wild hair, which formerly blond color was long since gone, glassy, watery eyes, flushed cheeks - well, he looked properly fucked that, considering, they were far from that, meant only that Conor's plan to get to him has worked.

Get a grip, he sternly said to the mirror and, then, repeated it several times to make his brain cooperate. He rubbed his face with his hands and then thought that he could use some cold water to cool off so he did that again, but with wet hands.

By the time Niall went out of the house with a pack of Guinness he felt much better and much more at ease. But, of course, it wasn't going to last, as his dearly loved partner was standing in the middle of their yard with his shirt soaked through with beer. His Louis Vuitton shirt, that Niall gave him on the rare occasion Conor would let him purchase something even remotely expensive for him. It just was so nice looking and fitted Conor perfectly, no need to say it was a good change from the ratty t-shirts he usually wore. Niall instantly wanted to cry and to flip the table, all at once. 

“You spilled beer on your shirt”, his own voice sounded pathetic to him, when he managed to spit the words out of his mouth in a way that wasn't even a question.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes, how would we find it out without you?”, Conor deadpanned, fingers moving to separate his shirt from his chest and abdomen in what supposed to be a disgusted gesture.

Niall only gulped at his shameless sass and opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. 

“I gotta change”, Conor said casually and lightly jogged into the house.

He was away for fifteen minutes or so, and Niall managed to wear off and, most likely, drink off his frustration. He was much more relaxed and drunk by now and decided that whatever Conor had to throw his way he definitely could take it, no pun intended.

So, it wasn't surprise to him when Conor appeared once again, dressed in a fresh shirt and looking quite decent, leave alone the fact that said shirt was very randomly buttoned. It looked like some 3-year-old had buttoned it instead of Conor. Somewhere in the back of his mind Niall thought that, probably, 3-year-old would do it better. 

He felt hot and frustrated and didn't even know if it was because of irritation, anger or something entirely different. He let Conor to get away with it for now, already planning his vengeance.

***  
When their friends left, Conor, obviously proud of himself, took several empty beer bottles and headed inside the house to throw them in the trash bin, but as soon as he stepped inside, he was roughly gripped by the hand and pinned against the wall.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”, Niall hissed through the teeth, still holding his hands in place and leaned his whole body against Conor's. “What was that little show about?”, his pupils were fully blown and veins on his neck were tensed and standing out.

“What are you talking about? I didn't do anything,” Conor tried to move away from his grip, but didn't succeed. He was not that good at acting for Niall to buy it for a second. Moreover, he was obviously fucking around, that little shit.

“Don’t I-didn’t-do-anything me! You know what i mean! That little spectacle you made of yourself!”, Niall couldn't believe that this man in front of him really tried to played him, boldly and shamelessly. “Well, you chose the wrong person to fool around with and think that you can get away with it”, he released his hands and reached out to rip his poorly buttoned up shirt open. Shining buttons gave away with only slight resistance, a couple of them landed on the floor with ringing thumps.

“That was my favorite shirt,” Conor cocked an unimpressed eyebrow.

Niall stayed silent and smoothed his hands up and down his bare chest, fingertips ghosting over his nipples. Conor let out a stiff breath he was holding and closed his eyes. His hand blindly slipped over the surface of the table until he reached several bottles with spices, tipping them over. 

Niall groaned in his neck and pulled away to look directly into his eyes, then he grabbed Conor's shirt between his shoulder blades and tugged it over his head. He promptly didn't let it slip all the way down his arms so it tangled around his wrists and forearms. When Niall turned him around with his hands on Conor's hips, Conor made another attempt to mess around the table, pushing the paper towels holder so it tripped over and the towels rolled around the kitchen floor. 

“Why the fuck are you doing that?” Niall demanded, voice shaking with disbelief, his previous anger started to dim.

“Because it drives you fucking crazy”, Conor answered in a low voice.

Niall said nothing to that, just placed his hand flat in the middle of his back and pushed until Conor was lying face down on the counter. Cold surface of the counter being in contact with Conor's heated skin had him trembling. Niall slid his hands up and down his spine several times, torturously slowly, then stopped at the waistband of his pants. Conor's vision was blurred from the alcohol and excitement buzzing through his veins, and the fact that his hair was covering his already flushed face like a veil didn't help that at all. He tried to huff it from his face to take in his surroundings but was stopped, wide-eyed and panting, when Niall roughly tugged his pants along with his underwear down his thighs. 

Conor arched his back to the firm touch of Niall’s hand but as soon as he did the hand was gone. He groaned low in his throat and stubbornly reached out to try to make more mess around their kitchen. Only then he realized that his own hands were basically tied up with his shirt, he tried to free them but didn't manage to do that due to his position on the table, all spread over it and with Niall's body bracketing him. 

He was almost blindfolded, almost tied down, with nowhere to go and the situation started to seem not particularly funny to him. Also, Niall's hands on his body moving with no actual pattern, appearing and touching here and there, then disappearing only to pinch and twist his skin over again, did very little to help that. 

Lost in his thoughts and sensations, Conor barely registered the sound of their fridge’s door being opened and then closed again. He caught up with it only when he felt cold liquid dripping down his spine and rolling down towards the swell of his arse. He hissed at the feeling and jolted forward, trying to escape the freezing drops hitting his heated skin. He was way too flushed and tensed to deal with the temperature play right now.

Niall stopped him with a steady hand on his hip while his other hand travelled down his spine with the droplets of olive oil until it reached his ass and further down to his hole. Conor took a deep breath and held it while Niall teased his finger around the tight rim before smoothly pushing in all the way to the third knuckle.

“Shit,” Conor breathlessly hissed at the mildly burning sensation.

As soon as he relaxed around Niall’s finger, Niall didn’t waste any time to steadily worked him up to the second and third ones. Niall was surely stroking his walls, changing the pace of his thrusts from excruciatingly slow to the fast and hard.

Conor didn’t know how much time they spent like this, five minutes or fifty, conscious enough only to feel that he was hot all over, panting and sweating and just needed something. He pushed against Niall’s thrusts, partly to enunciate them, but mostly to prevent his hard cock from touching the cold surface of the counter.

“Fuck, can you just –“ he breathed out, rocking harder on the fingers inside of him. “Just – Touch,” but before he could formulate his thought properly, the flesh on his right ass cheek was met with something firm, something that definitely wasn’t a hand. His skin started to burn before he even managed to open his mouth and let out a dumb “Oh”.

Niall was stubbornly quiet behind him, concentrated on his task in hand. Conor had to arch his neck to look at him, taking in the view which included Niall with the wooden spatula in his hand. “So, we’re into this now,” he huffed out, and was intended to go for an unimpressed eye roll, but his breath was knocked out of him with the next hit. 

What the actual fuck. Conor had never been spanked in his entire life, but he was completely sure it shouldn’t feel even remotely as sexually frustrating as it does. The place where the spatula was in contact with his arse cheek was tingling in a way that made him shiver, his breath was coming out in stiff hot puffs of air, he was ridiculously on the edge already and he couldn’t help but feel anticipation to the next hit. But it didn’t come.

He tried to say something to make Niall have his hands back on him, desperate to feel anything, but his mind was too far away to formulate actual demand. “Shit, Niall- Please,” was the most intelligent sentence he could come up with. 

“Look who’s lost all his sass already,” Niall hissed in his ear, making Conor shudder. He felt cold droplets of sweat running down his spine. Then, Niall roughly pushed him down so his sternum and hips made contact with the freezing surface of the kitchen island. 

Conor’s fingertips were buzzing with prickling sensations, like tiny needles stabbing his skin over and over again. At that, Niall had three fingers deep in him again. Conor couldn’t help the sign of relief the moment he felt the movement. Now Niall didn’t make him wait and squirm looking for some action, he started thrusting his fingers in and out in unforgiving, overwhelming pace that was on the edge of being painful.

It felt amazing. Better than Conor would’ve ever expected. He was seeing stars and his legs threatened to give out, so he put more of his weight on the counter and placed his forehead on his forearms. He was so close, could feel the tension swirling in his belly. It was probably a good idea to let Niall know but, damn, it was also so hard to remember how to articulate. But then, when he was ready to actually start speaking for what feels like the first time in his life, the movements of Niall’s fingers stopped and half a second later they were pulled out of his arse.

“Wha-“ was the only thing he could think of saying, unable to even finish his squeak of outrage.

At that, Niall tugged his pants back up. 

“Now we need to go finish tidying up our backyard,” he said in a voice that could be taken as nonchalant if Niall wasn’t panting a little. 

Conor felt like crying but tried to calmhimself, he wasn’t going to give Niall any more of his sinister pleasure. He stood up and frustratedly looked at over-smug Niall, noting the devils dancing in his eyes.

And then, he dutifully promised himself to never mess around with Niall. Ever.

He managed not to break this promise for almost two remaining hours of that day.


End file.
